Fanfic: Airborne (Douglas/Martin)
Title: Airborne
Pairing: Douglas/Martin
Summary: Flying has never meant much to Douglas but he is beginning to feel a change. (1.8K)
Notes: This one is for Jordan, glorious Control to my timid Tony. I hope you like the Douglas I am able to give you.
Douglas realises that there are two ways of living: Either you let things happen to you. Or you make things happen. Life is so easy, really.
***
The first time he pilots a plane, Douglas feels nothing more than faint amusement. He had spent so much time in a cockpit already, and now he's only moved one small step to the side in the restricted room, but a huge step upwards in the limitless space of financial success. He doesn't think about the consistency of clouds or that he's beyond the reach of nature's whims - he thinks about the Champagne toast they will have later on in the pilots' lounge, the hefty bonus that'll make going to the bank an even bigger treat, and the beautiful young blonde (exact looks and name still to be determined) he will take home tonight; thanks to his charm and maybe a little bit thanks to his new uniform.
The movement of the plane in steep heights does not curse through his veins at night, always urging and urging him to go back up into the sky, to make the world his own. It belongs to Douglas already, crooked smile, glinting eyes and the kind of boastful self-confidence you can only pull off if you really are the greatest person in the world. No, Douglas leans back and smiles as he passes schools and exams without fail, as he is being heaved up the hierarchical ladder at Air England faster than you can say 'smooth operator', and as he manages to be adored as well as envied by the overwhelming majority of his acquaintances. His life is so easy, really.
***
The first time he has to co-pilot at a firm called MyJetNow Air after being let go by Air England following a regrettable incident involving seven silk kimonos, Douglas feels nothing more than faint disbelief. His new plane is a flying trash can, his new employer is a zealous senior citizen with too much time on her hands, a very special son and money to burn, and he has yet to find out that his new superior is soon going to be a man whose miserable build is only surpassed by the pitifulness of his character.
Over the years his charm has stayed the same, only now accompanied by a sense of humour several shades of unexpected disappointment drier and a wall of self-confidence that's built on the firm belief of casual superiority. That's why he doesn't tell his wife Helena anything about the 'co-' in 'pilot', and a well-rehearsed indifference let's him ignore all implications going along with changing his uniform before he gets home. They are alright, the two of them.
***
Douglas realises there are two ways of loving: Either you're content and you try your best to please somebody. Or you're always restless, a constant longing tugging at your heart until little by little, pieces of it are chucked out and then you're left with only a crumb to survive on. Love is so difficult, really.
***
To be expected to ever get used to Gertie, the rattling ostrich, and a crew of the most incompetent fools this side of The Three Stooges is a lot to ask of a man born under a lucky star. To his own surprise though, Douglas can't help but silently appreciate Caroline's snarky sense of business. Money is tight but that's not his problem, and her ability to attract filthy rich passengers once in a while gives all of them a sense of purpose. Arthur gets to blossom into the most helpful person he is able to be, even though his food still represents a hazard to crew and passengers. But he tries and he makes Martin smile and forget his constant state of anxiousness and inadequacy for just a second; much better than any of their cockpit games ever could. Then again, these serve to prove Douglas' superiority in all fields of life, so that was to be expected.
Martin Crieff. Captain Martin Crieff. He unsettles Douglas because he can't understand him; can't understand how one person could unite in himself all the starkest differences to him. Martin has no charm or self-confidence, which jointly makes him inflate his ego in such a way that it can carry him in spite of his complete inability to function in a social environment. His sociable smile contorts his face into a terrifying mask, his eyes are dull unless he's checking the control panel while they're in the air and he's reading books about the construction of aeroplanes in his free time. His success rate is one to a million and he gets agitated by the way Douglas doesn't care about regulations. Maybe that's why Douglas likes teasing him so much.
But the thing that probably fascinates him the most about the resident captain is his utter devotion to the sky. In a moment of painstakingly embarrassing honesty (as if there is any other kind with Martin), he tells Douglas that as a child, he didn't want to be a captain yet - he wanted to be a plane himself. And Douglas smirks mockingly but he doesn't laugh, not from the heart, because this might be the most honest, human thing Martin has ever allowed himself to admit. Douglas looks out of the cockpit, towards the sun, and he bets that Martin still secretly dreams about being a plane sometimes, writing his name all over the sky. He has grown up though, and so he settled on the next best thing: Becoming a pilot and drawing crazy patterns beyond the clouds.
***
It has never meant that much to Douglas, soaring through open space, nothing holding him down. Everything that's ever mattered to him has been earthbound. There's no one and nothing to compare himself to in the void and to be the best simply because he's the only one there is no achievement.
Slowly, clandestinely, he learns to enjoy the stretches of admiring silence in the cockpit. A sea of white washes away beneath them, and on seldom occasions he forgets that they even have a destination when he marvels at the limitlessness of this quiet world. Douglas is not one for sentiment and romantic thought, so he's never understood the cheesy fascination with flying before. But Martin isn't cheesy about his love at all, and Douglas must begrudgingly admit to himself that that might be what's changed him.
He looks at the captain out of the corner of his eyes, and he sees him mentally drawing invisible lines through the air; dividing the endless, overwhelming freedom into clear-cut pieces that fit neatly into his world view. Considering how much Douglas has looked down on him as he started, he can't believe how fond he's grown of the person Martin turned out to be: always trying to quantify every situation and possibility; the little man who'd forever run around the sky with a ruler in his hand, trying desperately to stay in control without noticing that he'd long lost it, along with his head, in the clouds.
***
Douglas realises that loving flying can be a lot like loving a pilot. When you're on the ground, you can never quite imagine letting go of the earth beneath your feet. But once you're in flight mode, you just take your hands off the steering wheel, breathe in once, twice and ... relax. Flying is so pleasant, really.
***
The first time Douglas thinks he might be in love with the incompetent captain of the most shoddy airline in the whole United Kingdom is when he wakes up next to Helena with the noise of the turbines still gushing in his ears. He's never dreamt of flying before. His blood thumps through his veins, not to the melody of Helena moaning in her sleep, but to the rumble of wheels hitting the runway. Douglas knows he's in trouble. He's come to like landing the least these days.
The full realisation hits him when he sees Martin unsuccessfully trying to flirt with a passenger as she enters the plane for the flight of the day. It's a sequence of fingers running though thinning red hair, a tongue knotting words up and shoving them out in a jumbled mess, and the forlorn face of a man who's much too used to defeat. Douglas manages to bring himself to lightly tease the picture of misery in the pilot's seat during the whole flight, but after they've landed, he can't shake off the feeling that he's left something behind up there in the emptiness. Even the glass of whiskey he drinks as he half-heartedly watches a gaming show with Helena can't convince him that he can get it back. Douglas looks at his beautiful wife who always has a kind smile to bestow on him, and he promises himself he'll try.
And he really does. But sometimes the thoughts we let slip away when we aren't careful have a tendency of not letting themselves be coaxed back again. They keep hanging in the air and only when we are at the right place at the right time can they dock onto the busy ports in our chests again as if they'd never been missing.
The right place for Douglas can't be found on a map, only on a radar. The right time can't be read from a clock but only from the constantly fluctuating instrument board; preferably in the deep, unsure voice of a man who's build his home somewhere between the solid ground and the fading stars.
***
Finally he leans back and closes his eyes. His limbs rest comfortably in the co-pilot's seat but his thoughts skip and jab to the rhythm of longing in his heart. He's back up in the sky. That has to be enough. Beside him, Martin is humming a boring song in perfect disharmony. The tugging won't stop.
This has to be enough.
***
Douglas wonders if it is a coincidence that he had to fall in love with a pilot after all. He's always let life happen to him, washing over him like the clouds during take-off. But a pilot is supposed to be in control, breaking through the obscure haze to reach the serene, crystal-clear perfect flight level.
The co-pilot sits by, waiting for the right moment, waiting until he is needed. What the co-pilot shouldn't be is scared of the touchdown, the inevitable moment when life swallows him up again and he leaves his secret dreams hanging beyond his reach. Landing is so sobering, really.
Pairing: Douglas/Martin
Summary: Flying has never meant much to Douglas but he is beginning to feel a change. (1.8K)
Notes: This one is for Jordan, glorious Control to my timid Tony. I hope you like the Douglas I am able to give you.
Douglas realises that there are two ways of living: Either you let things happen to you. Or you make things happen. Life is so easy, really.
***
The first time he pilots a plane, Douglas feels nothing more than faint amusement. He had spent so much time in a cockpit already, and now he's only moved one small step to the side in the restricted room, but a huge step upwards in the limitless space of financial success. He doesn't think about the consistency of clouds or that he's beyond the reach of nature's whims - he thinks about the Champagne toast they will have later on in the pilots' lounge, the hefty bonus that'll make going to the bank an even bigger treat, and the beautiful young blonde (exact looks and name still to be determined) he will take home tonight; thanks to his charm and maybe a little bit thanks to his new uniform.
The movement of the plane in steep heights does not curse through his veins at night, always urging and urging him to go back up into the sky, to make the world his own. It belongs to Douglas already, crooked smile, glinting eyes and the kind of boastful self-confidence you can only pull off if you really are the greatest person in the world. No, Douglas leans back and smiles as he passes schools and exams without fail, as he is being heaved up the hierarchical ladder at Air England faster than you can say 'smooth operator', and as he manages to be adored as well as envied by the overwhelming majority of his acquaintances. His life is so easy, really.
***
The first time he has to co-pilot at a firm called MyJetNow Air after being let go by Air England following a regrettable incident involving seven silk kimonos, Douglas feels nothing more than faint disbelief. His new plane is a flying trash can, his new employer is a zealous senior citizen with too much time on her hands, a very special son and money to burn, and he has yet to find out that his new superior is soon going to be a man whose miserable build is only surpassed by the pitifulness of his character.
Over the years his charm has stayed the same, only now accompanied by a sense of humour several shades of unexpected disappointment drier and a wall of self-confidence that's built on the firm belief of casual superiority. That's why he doesn't tell his wife Helena anything about the 'co-' in 'pilot', and a well-rehearsed indifference let's him ignore all implications going along with changing his uniform before he gets home. They are alright, the two of them.
***
Douglas realises there are two ways of loving: Either you're content and you try your best to please somebody. Or you're always restless, a constant longing tugging at your heart until little by little, pieces of it are chucked out and then you're left with only a crumb to survive on. Love is so difficult, really.
***
To be expected to ever get used to Gertie, the rattling ostrich, and a crew of the most incompetent fools this side of The Three Stooges is a lot to ask of a man born under a lucky star. To his own surprise though, Douglas can't help but silently appreciate Caroline's snarky sense of business. Money is tight but that's not his problem, and her ability to attract filthy rich passengers once in a while gives all of them a sense of purpose. Arthur gets to blossom into the most helpful person he is able to be, even though his food still represents a hazard to crew and passengers. But he tries and he makes Martin smile and forget his constant state of anxiousness and inadequacy for just a second; much better than any of their cockpit games ever could. Then again, these serve to prove Douglas' superiority in all fields of life, so that was to be expected.
Martin Crieff. Captain Martin Crieff. He unsettles Douglas because he can't understand him; can't understand how one person could unite in himself all the starkest differences to him. Martin has no charm or self-confidence, which jointly makes him inflate his ego in such a way that it can carry him in spite of his complete inability to function in a social environment. His sociable smile contorts his face into a terrifying mask, his eyes are dull unless he's checking the control panel while they're in the air and he's reading books about the construction of aeroplanes in his free time. His success rate is one to a million and he gets agitated by the way Douglas doesn't care about regulations. Maybe that's why Douglas likes teasing him so much.
But the thing that probably fascinates him the most about the resident captain is his utter devotion to the sky. In a moment of painstakingly embarrassing honesty (as if there is any other kind with Martin), he tells Douglas that as a child, he didn't want to be a captain yet - he wanted to be a plane himself. And Douglas smirks mockingly but he doesn't laugh, not from the heart, because this might be the most honest, human thing Martin has ever allowed himself to admit. Douglas looks out of the cockpit, towards the sun, and he bets that Martin still secretly dreams about being a plane sometimes, writing his name all over the sky. He has grown up though, and so he settled on the next best thing: Becoming a pilot and drawing crazy patterns beyond the clouds.
***
It has never meant that much to Douglas, soaring through open space, nothing holding him down. Everything that's ever mattered to him has been earthbound. There's no one and nothing to compare himself to in the void and to be the best simply because he's the only one there is no achievement.
Slowly, clandestinely, he learns to enjoy the stretches of admiring silence in the cockpit. A sea of white washes away beneath them, and on seldom occasions he forgets that they even have a destination when he marvels at the limitlessness of this quiet world. Douglas is not one for sentiment and romantic thought, so he's never understood the cheesy fascination with flying before. But Martin isn't cheesy about his love at all, and Douglas must begrudgingly admit to himself that that might be what's changed him.
He looks at the captain out of the corner of his eyes, and he sees him mentally drawing invisible lines through the air; dividing the endless, overwhelming freedom into clear-cut pieces that fit neatly into his world view. Considering how much Douglas has looked down on him as he started, he can't believe how fond he's grown of the person Martin turned out to be: always trying to quantify every situation and possibility; the little man who'd forever run around the sky with a ruler in his hand, trying desperately to stay in control without noticing that he'd long lost it, along with his head, in the clouds.
***
Douglas realises that loving flying can be a lot like loving a pilot. When you're on the ground, you can never quite imagine letting go of the earth beneath your feet. But once you're in flight mode, you just take your hands off the steering wheel, breathe in once, twice and ... relax. Flying is so pleasant, really.
***
The first time Douglas thinks he might be in love with the incompetent captain of the most shoddy airline in the whole United Kingdom is when he wakes up next to Helena with the noise of the turbines still gushing in his ears. He's never dreamt of flying before. His blood thumps through his veins, not to the melody of Helena moaning in her sleep, but to the rumble of wheels hitting the runway. Douglas knows he's in trouble. He's come to like landing the least these days.
The full realisation hits him when he sees Martin unsuccessfully trying to flirt with a passenger as she enters the plane for the flight of the day. It's a sequence of fingers running though thinning red hair, a tongue knotting words up and shoving them out in a jumbled mess, and the forlorn face of a man who's much too used to defeat. Douglas manages to bring himself to lightly tease the picture of misery in the pilot's seat during the whole flight, but after they've landed, he can't shake off the feeling that he's left something behind up there in the emptiness. Even the glass of whiskey he drinks as he half-heartedly watches a gaming show with Helena can't convince him that he can get it back. Douglas looks at his beautiful wife who always has a kind smile to bestow on him, and he promises himself he'll try.
And he really does. But sometimes the thoughts we let slip away when we aren't careful have a tendency of not letting themselves be coaxed back again. They keep hanging in the air and only when we are at the right place at the right time can they dock onto the busy ports in our chests again as if they'd never been missing.
The right place for Douglas can't be found on a map, only on a radar. The right time can't be read from a clock but only from the constantly fluctuating instrument board; preferably in the deep, unsure voice of a man who's build his home somewhere between the solid ground and the fading stars.
***
Finally he leans back and closes his eyes. His limbs rest comfortably in the co-pilot's seat but his thoughts skip and jab to the rhythm of longing in his heart. He's back up in the sky. That has to be enough. Beside him, Martin is humming a boring song in perfect disharmony. The tugging won't stop.
This has to be enough.
***
Douglas wonders if it is a coincidence that he had to fall in love with a pilot after all. He's always let life happen to him, washing over him like the clouds during take-off. But a pilot is supposed to be in control, breaking through the obscure haze to reach the serene, crystal-clear perfect flight level.
The co-pilot sits by, waiting for the right moment, waiting until he is needed. What the co-pilot shouldn't be is scared of the touchdown, the inevitable moment when life swallows him up again and he leaves his secret dreams hanging beyond his reach. Landing is so sobering, really.